U2: A Show-biz Display of
Lost Innocence
(U2 goes crassly show-biz)

The clouds never appeared, the police
stayed away (from vocalist Bono, that is) and U2 had the
first of two Days on the Green at the Oakland Coliseum on
Saturday.

"U2 Stops Traffic," a poster
hanging from the upper deck proclaimed, while another added,
"Rock 'n' Roll Stops Traffic," both taken from the
message "Stop the Traffic, Rock 'n' Roll," which
Bono spray-painted on a fountain at San Francisco's Justin
Herman Plaza at the group's Wedneday concert. On Sunday,
police cited Bono for spraying the graffiti.

Bono was ordered to appear in San Francisco
Municipal Court on Dec. 16 on a misdemeanor charges of
malicious mischief.

Bono on Sunday also presented the city with
a 60-foot high mural depicting the legend "Peace Centro
America." The work was painted on the band's stage
backdrop by 20 artists from San Francisco's Mission Cultural
Center, who joined U2 on stage after the second of two
weekend shows at the Oakland Coliseum.

"We would like to present this work of
art to all the people of Northern California in the care of
Mayor Dianne Feinstein. We hope you will appreciate it,"
said Bono, in a statement read by his publicist Regine
Moylett.

On Saturday, though, Bono was slightly less
conciliatory.

"They didn't know they were dealing
with the Batman and Robin of rock 'n' roll," Bono
shouted. "I am an artist, and that was not an act of
vandalism."

Dispensing with that petty piece of
megalomania, Bono proceeded to prove his point by inviting
the fountain's creator, Armand Vaillancourt of Quebec, onto
the stage to proclaim his "solidarity with U2."
Bono then offered to let Vaillancourt "make his
contribution to our art" by scrawling an indecipherable
message on the U2's stage backdrop.

Was any of this necessary? Apparently. But
not for any purposes related to social injustice. this was
show biz, plain and simple, and coming from a group with the
social stance of U2, it was plainly and simply revolting.

The crowd that had come to this Day on the
Green was unlike it's predecessors. Yes, it had come to rock
and to party and to enjoy itself. But it had also come out of
a sense of respect for U2 and what it purportedly stands for.
This respect could be seen in the numerous Irish flags that
dotted the stadium, one of which was emblazoned with a peace
symbol. There were posters against war and several with
hearts painted on, proclaiming their love not only for U2,
but also for the love among humanity that the group cries out
for in many of it's songs.

"They are making statements about war
and injustice and inhumanity that I agree with," said
Nick Yukas, 18, of Benicia. "I think they're more than
just a musical group."

Yehudit Sherman, 18, of Lafayette said much
the same thing. "I like their music and sound, but I
also like what they say about the world," she said.
"I've been a fan of theirs for a long time, when they
used to play in smaller places where you could hear and see
them. This place sucks."

Which, in its inadvertent way, summed up
this Day.

Not that the groups were bad - U2 was
backed by the Pretenders and the BoDeans. Nor their music -
Chrissie Hynde was a particular delight, churning out her
ancient Pretenders hits. Nor the attentive and well-behaved
crowd.

But there was about this Day (or rather,
night) a disquieting sense of a trust betrayed and an
innocence lost. the trust belonged to the fans and the
innocence ot the object of their trust, U2.

From the start, U2 has been a thinking
person's group. On songs such as "New Years Day"
and others, it has grappled with the Troubles of it's native
Ireland and the troubles of others in other lands. On songs
like "Pride," it has raised the spirit of it's
listeners just as it has the spirit of rock 'n' roll.

But with the unqualified musical and
commercial success of "The Joshua Tree," it's
newest album, U2 has pursued a course that has led it
inexorably to shows and displays like that at this
Day.

The group's playing was in perfect form,
with the Edge's guitar dispensing its eloquent, elegant
lattice work of sound and Adam Clayton's bass and Larry
Mullen's drums pounding out a savage accompaniment. To this,
Bono added his dramatic, febrile vocals.

Finally, there was that charade at the
start of the evening, a contrived piece of puffery that will
no doubt make it's way onto the documenary of this tour that
was the basis for what Bono disingenuously referred to as the
"free show" Wednesday at the Embarcadero (the
performance was a "shoot" for the film). Bono's
assertions of being an "artist" (when justifying
vandalism) sounded hollow, just as Vaillancourt's solidarity
seemed a trifle too rehearsed for anybody's good. It was all
very self-serving and melodramatic, like the displays of the
political curs that Bono is wont to decry. If this is what
stardom does to Bono and his mates, thank goodness they
aren't colonels in some miserable banana republic.